Yep it’s been six whole years since the Kitch decided to stalk me after college one night and drag me off to the pub for a drink. What a great six years it’s been, full of changes too. Wil left home and moved to Stoke On Trent followed by a stint in Oxford and quite some time contracting before taking a job in Bracknell and returning to live in Suffolk where we bought our house.

I went from renting a house in the centre of Ipswich to spending 9 months living in a 300 sq ft log cabin in my mums back garden in order to save money for a deposit on a house. And finally we both pulled it all together and bought a fantastic house in a beautiful location so much nicer than anything we thought we’d ever get. Three years in our home has flown.

When we met I was only into running and when Wil mentioned he was into mountain biking I did what I chuckle at people for doing now – enthusiastically told him *I* too had a mountain bike but it wasn’t for me – biking was too much effort for very little fun. Wil must have rolled his eyes at the 300lb Raleigh Lizard propping up cobwebs in my sunroom. Some months later he wound up riding that hunk of green crap on flat tyres to a car boot sale in the shitty end of town at 5am on a frosty cold October morning – only to find out the boot sale wasn’t on that weekend! Narrowly avoiding a police questioning for kerb crawling in the red light district we returned home – him on the Lizard and me following in a car rammed to the ceiling with shit, and piled back into bed.

Luckily Wil introduced me to the world of proper mountain biking and purpose built mountain bikes that are a joy to ride – had he not introduced me to the world of Downhill in Scotland, how else would I have smashed my entire shoulder apart and spent a week in hospital? And had Wil not left the hospital while I was in surgery and got stuck giving evidence after witnessing a car accident he wouldn’t have been late getting back only to receive a rollocking from the duty nurse because I’d been inconsolable when I came round from the general anesthetic. Then on the day I was discharged and sat in a wheelchair waiting for Wil to bring the truck round to the front of the hospital he discovered we had a flat tyre. All the tyre changing tools were underneath the back seat which was host to a massive pile of bikes and camping equipment all packed in with the precision of a Navy Seal reconnaissance mission. He emptied the entire truck load onto the tarmac and began sorting the tyre only to find out as a loud siren and flashing blue lights indicated he was blocking the lane where the ambulances pulled into the ER. Ahh the memories!

We’ve had many good trips together. Several times to Scotland mountain biking, a white Christmas one year in a log cabin in the Highlands in Scotland, couple of weeks in Mexico, holiday in Turkey, Wales, the USA and many weekend excursions to various places. Oh and not forgetting THE OUTER HEBRIDES! and that morning on the Isle of Harris when we awoke to a bright green glow from the tent fabric surrounding us and laid there listening to a light smattering of rain falling on the outside of the tent. Finally I had to get out of the tent to pee, a delicate operation which involved pulling on various items of clothing whilst in a horizontal position in a space the size of a coffin. Then opening the inner tent zipper in order to pop my two feet into my two shoes inside the external door zipper and then finally opening the external door bracing myself for rain only there, outside the tent was not rain. It was a dense black cloud of midges swirling around like a ball of wool tumbling down a hillside. It wasn’t rain hitting the canvas – it was midges.

The next 15 minutes of that morning encompassed shock, worry, frustration and anger before turning to tears and then an overwhelming and suffocating feeling of claustrophobia whilst we lay there in the tent arguing about how long we might be trapped there for and ‘WHOSE SODDING IDEA WAS IT TO COME TO THIS FUCKING PLACE ANYWAY’. If there have ever been two people with the inability to solve any dilemma without raised voices and plenty of name calling it’s us. The funny part is we’re immune to it – it’s just the way we roll. I don’t think the Isle of Harris was quite ready for what was about to be launched on them that morning when half way up a mountain side next to a beautiful calm Loch separating the sharp slopes two very scruffy people only partially dressed burst out of a tiny green tent in a whirlwind of arm flapping and choking as the midges descended into our faces like locusts on a field of crops. With one shoe on and the other being dragged by my big toe, Wil elbowed past me and grabbed my hand to drag me along behind him further up the side of the mountain. We were like early morning fell runners tearing up the craggy granite rocks and sinking into the boggy grass as fast as our legs would carry us. Once we got to the top of the hill in the breeze the midges blew away and there we sat in our pants and trainers wondering what to do next. What else? Laugh a bit and then start throwing insults.

It was just the other day when I tried to call Wil on his mobile only for him to cut the ringing short by hitting ‘Ignore’ on his phone. The silence was instantly followed by a text message that read ‘On the other phone, will call you shortly’ to which I replied ‘Don’t call me Shortly’ to which he replied ‘Sorry you Fucker’. Other people might be uncomfortable with this but I think there’s something funny to be said about finding humour in leveling insults at each other and not taking it personally.

This evening we went for dinner, me, Wil and the boy and it was a lovely standard family affair – where Cameron uncontrollably fidgeted and twitched because he was sat in the company of other people but not armed with any electronic equipment with which to spend his attention. Instead he fiddled with the condiments on the table and tried to make a building out of his and the 4th seating cutlery. When that was taken away from him he began waving his arms about like a special-case and repeatedly got bollocked for nearly elbowing his drink off the table. I just sat by as the irritation built in Wil because Cam wasn’t sat like a silent statue but instead acting like a typical 11 year old boy (with electronic equipment withdrawal symptoms). I watched as man and boy exchanged silly quips and head slaps and because I wasn’t joining in the silliness Wil did that thing where he frequently asked if I was ‘mardy’ and ‘grumpy’ and why did I have ‘the face’ on and when he does this enough times my face finally ends up seven shades of mardy and grumpy.

When dinner arrived Cam smirked and Wil asked what he was smirking at and Cam guffawed and stated ‘the size of your cod’ because there was indeed a MASSIVE battered piece of cod draped across Wil’s plate. I started giggling and Wil pointed at Cameron and said ‘stop it, you’re giving me a Haddock’ to which Cam replied ‘this is not the Plaice’. Because who doesn’t love a volley of fish jokes and crap humour around the dinner table?

Well at least we keep each other laughing and that’s the most important thing. What great friends, I miss him when he’s not here yet he often drives me mad when he is but I wouldn’t trade this life for much, except perhaps a few fresh fish jokes and some newer insults – here’s to another 6 years and I hope we have a ‘whale’ of a time.